I don't want you like a best friend
by darveysecretsanta2018
Summary: When Harvey and Donna are trapped in a confined space, the tension builds. Will the truth come out? Darvey.


The third Secret Santa fic has been delivered. Don't forget to thank the Santa for all their hard work, and leave a comment. :)

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Prompt by Nelly ( nelggy): _Christmas at ZSLWW. A snowstorm knocks out the electricity. Harvey and Donna are stuck in the elevator together. (Darvey not together yet)_

* * *

As the mid-December snow falls picturesquely against the New York skyline outside the windows of the fiftieth floor, Harvey walks down the dimly-lit and deserted hallway towards the elevators, sighing to himself out of exhaustion. The case he was working on was taking it out of him, getting on his last nerve, and quite frankly he just didn't care. About the case, about anything anymore. Not since he'd found out about Donna. Donna and _him_.

The news she was seeing someone had hit him like a bolt out of the blue. Blindsided him. Then he'd found out from Samantha that it was none other than Thomas Kessler, a long-time client of the firm. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and Harvey supposed Donna had been swept completely off her feet. It had been 3 months, and from what Harvey could tell, and from what Samantha had rather pointedly told him, Donna was blissfully happy. It was serious between them, and Harvey felt like he was drowning. The days passed by in a blur, his life feeling like it no longer had any purpose or meaning, each one ending in a scotch-induced haze as he passed out on top of his bed, often not even bothering to change out of his shirt and trousers.

He could feel her slipping away more and more, bit by bit, every day.

He was losing her.

As he reaches the elevators, he notices one of them beginning to close. He jogs the last few steps, reaching out to hold the door. It reopens to reveal none other than Donna herself, cutting a solemn figure in one corner. Legs crossed at the ankles, holding her Hermés bag with both hands in front of her, she had her head bowed to the floor. His heart rate quickens just at the sight of her. She looks up at Harvey, the smile she gives him not quite reaching her eyes.

"Donna, hey," he says, surprised to see her leaving so late. It was after 9pm, and he knew she'd been leaving early most nights since she started seeing Thomas. Dates, dinners, cosy nights in he presumed. The last one the one he hated thinking about the most.

"Hi, Harvey," she says, "long day too?"

"You could say that. This case is driving me crazy. I've never known a more ignorant son-of-a-bitch than Adam Krosh. If I hadn't taken him on as a favour to Robert, I'd have told him where to go by now."

She chuckles, shaking her head as he takes his place beside her in the elevator. "Just grin and bear it, hotshot. Think of the pay check and the trip to the car club when it's all over."

He smiles in reply, the first genuine smile he's had on his face in weeks.

They stand in silence for a moment, Harvey wrapped up in the feeling of being in the vicinity of her, _just_ her. Relishing it. Their after work ritual of drinks in each other's offices had petered out since she'd been dating Thomas, and nowadays they were hardly alone together, and when they were, it was always work related. Always professional, never personal. The Donna-and-Harvey closeness of years gone by, lost, waiting to be found again.

"You planning on staying here all night?" he hears, jolting him out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Press the button, Harvey." She gestures towards the panel on the side of the elevator closest to him. "You can stay if you want, but I'd like to go home," she says, with an almost unnoticeable sigh.

He shakes his head, startled, and jumps to press the button for the ground floor.

"Sorry," he murmurs.

Donna raises her perfectly groomed brow, side-eyeing him, then goes back to staring at the floor, absent-mindedly biting her bottom lip.

They ride in silence for a few floors, Harvey staring at the numerical display above the doors in an attempt to keep his growing nervousness under control.

The tentative silence is interrupted suddenly by a deafening mechanical grinding sound, loud enough to cause Donna to drop her bag to the floor with a thud and yell out in shock.

Harvey whirls round in response to her cry, just in time to see her look of panic before the lights go out and the elevator lurches to a halt, plunging them both into darkness, the sudden jolt making them stumble and struggle to stay on their feet. In amongst the confusion, Harvey feels Donna grab his hand. His fingers automatically wrap around hers.

Then all is still. All is quiet.

"Donna? Are you okay?" Harvey whispers, the worry evident in his voice, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. Without even thinking about it. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What the hell happened?" she says, her fear obvious from the way her voice cracks, as she grasps onto his hand, the action filling his body with warmth, lighting his nerve endings on fire. He felt _alive_ , for the first time in months.

She hears and senses him fumbling around in his pocket before his cell phone screen lights up, followed by the flashlight on the back illuminating the small space.

"I think it's a power cut. Probably the snow. Look," he says, as he gestures with his phone so the light dances over the display, now blank.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock," she throws back, with a hint of exasperation.

"You asked!"

"Rhetorical question, Harvey! I think it's clear what happened!" she snaps, out of nowhere.

Harvey gapes at her, perplexed and thrown off-guard at her abrupt burst of aggression. She'd grabbed his hand out of sheer fright less than a minute ago.

"Yeah, it's an annoying situation, Donna, but is my company that bad?" he jokes nervously, voice faltering, trying to gage her mood. She'd raised her right hand to her forehead, rubbing anxiously with her fingertips, toe tapping on the metal floor.

She looks at him, then down at their hands, still interlinked, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and wrenches hers out of his grasp as quick as she had put it there. Harvey misses the feel of it straight away. It felt so right. It's where her hand should've been for the last thirteen years. But he'd never tell her that. She doesn't feel that way. She told him.

She picks her bag back up and reaches inside, digging around for her phone.

"You have got to be kidding me!" she almost snarls, tapping away at the touch screen.

"What?" Harvey asks, watching her like she was a bomb about to explode.

"No service! Well this is just fucking perfect!"

Harvey blinks in shock, reeling backwards, hearing her drop the f-bomb both a surprise and a turn-on, just like the last and only other time he'd ever heard her say it.

 _I'm in my position because I fucking earned it!_

"Donna, are you okay?"

"Check your phone, see if you have service."

He checks. He doesn't.

He shakes his head at her. She rolls her eyes back at him. "Looks like we're here for the foreseeable, Donna."

She waves her arms in the air and brings them back down to her sides with a slapping noise.

"Great. Just great." She exhales a breath, kicking her nude Louboutin heels off and sliding her back down the cold, panelled wall until she's sitting, legs crossed and outstretched in front of her, with her eyes closed, head thrown back against the wall and her hands clasped in her lap.

Harvey stares down at her, completely out of his depth, clueless as to what to do next, having rarely seen her so…un-Donna. So undone. The only other time was when she nearly went to prison, and he didn't exactly handle that situation well, either. He shakes his head and blinks, at a loss.

He stands for a moment, fingers twitching at his sides, before sitting down next to her, mirroring her position with his back against the wall. He places his phone screen-side down on the floor in between them, the light causing their forms to appear as long shadows up the walls.

He turns his neck to look at her, watching her for a moment. She gazes into her lap, distractedly playing with the hem of her cream coloured coat.

"Donna, what's wrong? I may not be able to read people like you can but even I can tell there's something up. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing, Harvey," she murmurs.

"So there is something, then."

"I don't want to talk about it, Harvey! Okay? I just…I don't want to."

"Is it him? _Tim_? Whatever his name is? I swear to God, Donna, if he's hurt you in any way I'm gonna kill-"

"Harvey!" she cries, finally turning to look at him. "Drop it, okay? I can't do this now, not here, not with…" she trails off, shaking her head.

"What, with _me_? What-?"

"We broke up," she concedes with a sigh, her hair, an even deeper shade of fiery red in the dim light, hiding her face and expression from him as her head lowers again.

He doesn't think he's heard her properly at first. Broken up? Samantha had said they were happy together. He'd seen the flowers from him being delivered first hand. Smarmy, cliché bastard. Watched her go out on her lunch hour to meet him. He'd never let her _know_ that he'd watched them, made a point of watching her stroll up to him in the lobby, but he did. He needed to see it for himself. The feeling when he watched him peck her on the lips to greet her and escort her into an elevator with his hand on her lower back like a kick in the gut, almost unbearable. A feeling he'd had time and time again over the years with each new man in her life but had never been able to identify until now. Never _wanted_ to identify until now. Jealousy.

"…what?" he manages to utter, feeling guilty at the small, but definitely _there,_ glimmer of hope that dares to flutter to life in his chest.

"You heard me," she mutters, head still bowed.

Harvey thinks for a moment. "Why? You seemed so…happy," he probes. It pains him to even consider the possibility of her being happy with someone else. Someone who wasn't him.

"Yeah, well, sometimes things aren't what they seem to be," she says dryly.

"But everyone thought…Samantha said-"

"I don't mean to other people, Harvey. I mean to me."

"What?" he asks, even more confused now.

"God, how many times can a person use the word 'what' in one conversation, Harvey?!" she spits out, clearly trying to deflect from the matter at hand.

He raises his hands in surrender, feeling self-conscious. "Sorry. I'm just trying to understand, Donna. You seemed…serious about him," he struggles out, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as soon as they leave it.

"You know what, Harvey. No. You don't get to take an interest in my private life now. Not after everything," she waves her hand, her palm vertical in the air between them as if to tell him to butt out.

"Everything? What do you mean, _everything?_ "

She exhales in frustration, before opening and closing her mouth as if she couldn't form the words she wanted to say.

"Donna, talk to me, _please_ ," he says, in that soft voice they both knew he saved only for her. He turns his body to face her and tentatively places his right hand over one of hers, still in her lap. He feels her hand twitch, ever so slightly, at the contact.

She turns her head to look at him again, hazel irises meeting chocolate brown ones, only just distinguishable in the dim light of the phone flashlight. He aches to hold her, wrap his arms around her and take her pain away when he sees tears pooling in her eyes, a lone one escaping and rolling down her cheek, which she hastily brushes away.

"Harvey…" she trails off.

She sighs, feeling a lump forming in her throat and apprehension building in her stomach. The thing is, Donna knew exactly why it didn't work out with Thomas. She knew that when he sent her flowers randomly she would wish they were from Harvey instead. She knew that when he came to pick her up to take her out for lunch, she wished it was Harvey coming by her office instead. She knew that when she slid into the passenger seat of his car and he drove them home, she was wishing it was the back seat of Ray's car instead, and Harvey was asking "your place or mine?" with a waggle of his eyebrows and that lascivious Cheshire Cat grin that always hit somewhere low in her stomach. She hadn't even admitted to Rachel on one of their regular phone calls that when Thomas was making her moan, she was imagining it was Harvey kissing her, touching her, making love to her instead. That imagining Harvey was what _was_ making her moan. That she'd had to bite her lip to stop herself from whispering Harvey's name instead of Thomas' on more than a few occasions. She knew what it all meant now. She'd known ever since she kissed him and it felt like the planets had aligned. Thomas was merely a distraction. He'd made her feel desired, wanted, that day he came in for the meeting with Samantha. She'd only stepped in to help. But he'd showed a genuine interest in her, made her laugh, complimented her. So afterwards, when he'd pulled her aside and asked her to go to dinner with him, of course she said yes. What harm could it do? Other than show her the only man she could ever want, ever be happy with, ever _need_ , was Harvey Specter. But he didn't want more. He told her.

Taking a deep breath, she gazes into his eyes and the look of genuine concern and worry in them sends a wave of calm washing over her. His eyes could always do that. _He_ could always do that. The feeling of his hand, placed softly over hers, filled her with serenity and a sense of belonging. Like she had been lost at sea and now she was back where she was meant to be. By his side. She knew he was her anchor, just as much as she was his.

"Donna, please…" he murmurs again, "it kills me to see you like this."

She fixes him with a challenging stare, one he remembers seeing before, in her apartment the night he saved her from prison, just before he ran out on her. Like a coward.

 _I should go._

 _Why?_

 _You know why. You know I love you, Donna._

"Why?" she says, firm, her eyes non-blinking as she stares him down, a current of electricity in the air between them.

"Because you're _you,_ Donna. Let me in, please," he whispers, determined not to back down and run from whatever was happening between them, like he did that night.

She looks at him, the tentativeness clear in her eyes and her body language as he sees her swallow. He reaches out and brushes her hair behind one ear, his thumb grazing her cheek as he moves his hand away.

" _Please_ ," he whispers again, a pleading look in his eyes.

Donna takes a deep breath and lets it out again. She stares at him, her expression morphing between nervous, pensive, and determined within a matter of seconds. Maybe it was the current state of affairs, how lost she'd felt, or maybe it was simply being stuck in an elevator in such close quarters with him. _Maybe_ it was the look in his eye and the worry on his face that made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered. _Screw it,_ she thought. She'd had enough of putting herself second. She couldn't keep lying to herself.

"He wasn't you." she says, simply, matter-of-fact, her eyes meeting his, a look of finality in them.

Harvey's heart slams in his chest as he stares at her. A loud roaring fills his ears, a rush of adrenaline flooding through his veins, his entire body coming to life at her words.

One thought fills his mind. _She said she didn't feel anything._ That night when his entire world felt like it suddenly made sense, the life-altering moment when all he saw was a blur of copper hair and ivory skin and hazel eyes walking towards him, and she kissed him, and he kissed her back. She said she didn't feel anything. _Was she lying?_

She pulls her hand out from under his, and stands up. She paces around the small space, still without her heels, wringing her hands together, seemingly at odds with herself. He stands too, gravitating towards her. He reaches out, as if take her hand, to pull her towards him but withdraws at the last second as she turns around to face him, turmoil etched on her face.

"He asked me to go away with him for Christmas. And that's when it hit me. It didn't feel right. He isn't the person I should be doing that stuff with. Who I _want_ to be doing that stuff with." She eyes him, taking a tentative step towards him. "I grabbed your hand, Harvey. Just now, when the elevator stopped. Without even thinking. That's how it's been all along. It's been you. Without even thinking." She pauses. Their eyes are locked onto one another's, pulled together by some inexplicable force.

"I lied when I said I didn't feel anything, Harvey," she says, her voice cracking, more tears spilling down both cheeks, "I felt _everything_ and I don't know if I'm throwing everything away by even admitting it but I can't lie to myself anymore, can't lie to you-"

His mouth crashes onto hers, cutting her confession off and earning a muffled squeak of surprise, making her momentarily freeze, before she relaxes and gives in to his lips. His right hand moves to her face, caressing her cheek and brushing her tears away with his thumb as he pulls her closer, fingers gliding into her hair behind her ear, her top lip in between his, while his left hand lands on her waist, gripping and squeezing. At the feel of her fingers moving up his arm to lightly graze the hair at the nape of his neck, his tongue coaxes her mouth open and he feels more than hears her moan of pleasure as her tongue meets his, sending blood rushing south. His lips and tongue move against hers with a reverence, igniting a pool of desire in her abdomen.

Moving both hands to her waist now, he walks her backwards, her hands coming to rest on either side of his face, until her back hits the wall and she whimpers into his mouth before biting his bottom lip, an action which he feels in his groin. He grunts, his hands moving deftly towards the belt of her coat, pulling so it falls open, revealing the emerald green satin dress she'd worn the day after their last kiss.

He draws his head back a few inches and groans, his eyes raking up and down her figure. She eyes him back, a glint in her eye at the wanton look in his. The tantalising glimpse of cleavage, the slit up the front, the _colour._ The deep emerald green against porcelain skin and flame-red hair. She had no idea how much the sight of her in that dress drove him wild. Memories of the last time he'd seen her in it flooding back, how much he'd wanted to be the one to take it off, see it lying abandoned on the floor.

He moves back in again and their mouths mould together as his hands find their way under her coat, running his palms up and down her sides, gripping her waist, brushing over her ass, her skin igniting at the touch, even over the material of her dress. She reciprocates, her fingers expertly loosening his silver grey tie and pulling open the top button of his shirt, before trailing their way over his solid abdomen, nails dragging over the thin cotton of his shirt, all the while their lips never leaving each other. He pushes the coat off of her shoulders, letting it fall, forgotten, to the floor.

They're a mish mash of hands, limbs, lips, tongues, skin, devouring each other as if they'd just woken up from a thirteen year long slumber. In a way, they had.

He envelops her in his arms, pulling her close. "Donna," he whispers, nipping lightly at her lower lip with his teeth, smoothing it over with kisses, "I lied too. When I said I didn't want more…I lied." He was breathless.

"I figured," she murmurs, her low voice tinged with humour, "or do you go around kissing _everyone_ like this?" She giggles salaciously against his lips, running a hand down his back under his suit jacket and giving his butt cheek a quick squeeze.

He looks down at her, stunned, eyes wide with surprise. A look that is so comical and _un-Harvey_ , that she can't help but laugh; a tinkly, carefree laugh that lights up her entire face.

 _God, I love you_ , he thinks.

"Did you just _squeeze my butt_ , Paulsen?"

She eyes him back, defiantly, one eyebrow quirked, a twinkle there which makes his dick twitch. "What if I did, _Specter_?"

He stares at her, the sparkle in her eye and the way her mouth was upturned at one corner, an expression that was so unequivocally _Donna_ , making all the emotions of the last thirteen years boil over.

"I love you."

He gazes down at her, observing the doe-eyed, open-mouthed expression that now took over her features.

"I've loved you every day for the last thirteen years, Donna, and I don't know how much longer I could've gone on watching you with him. And I know that makes me the world's biggest hypocrite, and an idiot, because I shacked up with my _therapist_ ," he says, grimacing, "and I know now how wrong it was, on every level."

She smiles a small, mirthful smile, her eyes full of warmth and understanding, and maybe a glint of amusement. Her way, their way, of communicating without words. He feels spurred on.

"But I _love_ you, Donna. Of course I want more. I want _everything_." he says, smiling nervously. "And I know I made a mess of things, more than once. I'm sorry. For everything. I'll spend the rest of my life showing you how sorry I am."

"The rest of your life, huh?" she grins, teasingly, running her hands up and down his forearms, still around her waist.

He rolls his eyes. "I just laid everything out for you, and _that's_ the part you pick up on? I'm trying to be deep and meaningful here!"

She laughs again, moving in to peck his lips.

"You don't need to spend the rest of your life being sorry, Harvey. We've _both_ been idiots. For thirteen years. I think we cancel each other out."

"Maybe so," he murmurs, brows furrowing, "but that doesn't change the fact you've been pining for me for thirteen years…" he grins, eyes full of humour.

Her eyes widen with mock incredulousness as she playfully swats his arm. "I changed my mind. _You're_ the idiot. Ugh." She pauses, shaking her head teasingly. "I suppose it's a good job I love you too…"

He's speechless, gawping at her with a goofy, almost relieved smile and adoration behind his eyes. Those three little words, coming from her, make him feel weightless. She smiles back up at him sweetly, before a look of mischief flashes across her eyes. She bats her lashes at him with mock innocence.

"Wanna make out like horny teenagers till someone finds us?"

"I wanna do more than make out with you…"

"Patience, _Casanova_ ," she says, "we'll be out of here very soon…"

"But it's Christmas. I want to unwrap my present…" he moans, eyes sweeping over her emerald green satin-swathed figure yet again, lingering longer on the V cut over her breasts.

"I know you do…" she moves onto her tiptoes, mouth millimetres from his ear, "I want you to too." She pauses, lightly biting his earlobe. "You should know…I only bought this dress so you could take it off…"

He doesn't need any more encouragement as he groans and reels her back in, flush against him, their lips immediately finding each other as he pushes her up against the wall once more, eliciting a whimper of arousal from her as she feels his need rolling against her lower stomach. His hands trail up her sides, touching and caressing and worshipping and _loving_ , desperately trying to compensate for thirteen years of holding back. One hand finds its way round to her back, slipping through the opening of her dress, running his fingertips over her smooth skin, making her shiver at the feel of his touch on her. She responds, hands eagerly yanking his shirt out of his trousers, hands burrowing under the fabric to glide over his muscled chest. He grinds into her, moaning into her mouth, before deepening the kiss even more. They lose themselves, quite literally so when Harvey's phone dies, plunging them both into pitch darkness once again, doing nothing to tamper the urgency between them, only adding fuel to the fire of desire. Now relying purely on feel, he drags his spare hand down her body, squeezing and exploring, kneading and massaging, feeling the heat of her skin through the silky material of her dress, his lips moving from her mouth to neck and back again. Five minutes or five hours could've passed as they reacquaint themselves with each other in the way they've been longing to do for thirteen years. Simultaneously finding each other and getting lost with each other.

They get so lost with each other, in fact, that they don't even notice when the doors glide open silently.

"Jesus fucking Christ!"

Their mouths fall apart with a gasp and a loud smacking noise upon hearing Louis' exclamation, eyes snapping open and heads whirling round, squinting at the sudden flood of light, to see him and an engineer; Louis' mouth flapping silently while the engineer tries but fails to stifle a smirk.

Louis' eyes roam disbelievingly over the scene; Donna's bag, shoes, and coat discarded messily on the floor; Harvey with his tousled hair, shirt and tie in disarray, shiny lip gloss smeared around his mouth, hand disappearing into the back of Donna's dress; Donna herself, flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, both hands still inside the front of Harvey's shirt; the two of them looking like startled rabbits caught in the headlights.

Donna hastily tries to extricate herself from Harvey's hold, but he resists, pulling her back in with a pleading look in his eyes. She narrows her eyebrows at him, confused, until she feels him against her hip, and it dawns on her. She desperately tries to repress a snigger and turns her head towards Louis, throwing him a breezy smile.

"Hi Louis! How are you?" She feels Harvey's forehead land on her shoulder, hiding his laughter or embarrassment, she couldn't tell.

" _How am I?_ " he exclaims, incredulous, arms flapping. "I find the two of you in here practically _dry humping_ each other, and you wanna respond by asking how I am!?"

"I'm glad you found us, Louis!" Donna says, airily, casually, as if she didn't have Harvey wrapped around her with his boner pressed into her hip, with the added bonus of an audience. "How did you know we were in here?"

"I didn't know you were _both_ in here!" he almost yells, "I thought I was rescuing Harvey because Ray called and said he hadn't come downstairs yet! I didn't think I'd be getting the live uncensored version of the elevator scene in Fifty Shades of Grey-!"

Harvey's head shoots up.

"You've watched Fifty Shades of Grey?"

Louis falters, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

"It's Sheila's favourite," Louis says quickly, failing to meet Harvey's gaze.

"I bet it is," Harvey says, grinning smugly.

Donna softly swats Harvey's chest in chastisement, trying but failing to glare at him and instead having to swallow down a laugh.

"Thanks, Louis!" Donna says, loudly, turning to look at him again, smiling widely. "Glad you were around to be the hero."

Louis smiles to himself, doing a bad job of hiding how flattered he was at Donna's address, before a look of realisation dawns on his face and he gestures between them wildly.

"Does this mean that you two are-?"

"Together?" Harvey jumps in, before Donna even has chance to open her mouth. He gazes down at her, their eyes meeting. "Yes, Louis, it does."

She stares at him questioningly, momentarily stunned by his eagerness to confirm their new status, before the soft, adoring look in his eyes spreads to hers, and a flutter of butterflies starts dancing in her stomach.

"I need to call Jessica. Wait till she hears this. All these years and all it took was the two of you getting trapped in an elevator," Louis mumbles, shaking his head. "I need a day…" he turns, following the engineer into the opposite elevator.

They wait until the opposite doors close before bursting out laughing in each other's arms, wild, uninhibited laughter that feels like it comes from the tips of their toes all the way up, spreading endorphins in its wake. They laugh until they can't breathe, doubled over and clutching onto each other for support.

"I think we broke Louis," Donna gasps, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

" _You_ didn't! You were solid as a rock!" Harvey says with awe.

Donna looks at him, brow quirked and a devilish gleam in her eyes, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek to tamper down the grin. "Speaking of solid…you okay there?" she asks, her thigh nudging his groin not-so-subtly.

Harvey shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

"I'm not apologising for who I am."

"I'm never letting you live this down, you know that, right?"

"I'd rather get shit from you over it than Louis, so do your worst," he says, throwing his right arm around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

Donna rolls her eyes and shakes her head, giggling softly. "Come on, pretty, let's get out of here."

She reaches up and interlinks her fingers with his, absentmindedly stroking the side of his hand with her thumb. It feels like home.

"Harvey…?" she says, softly.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He smiles down at her, that soft, crinkly eyed smile reserved only for her.

"I love you too, Donna."

They both know, in that moment, the dam having been broken, they'll never tire of saying those words to each other.

He leans over and presses the button for the ground floor.

"Donna…?" he prompts.

She looks up at him, his face serious, making her stomach lurch.

"Your place or mine?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows as his face breaks out into _that_ Cheshire Cat grin.

 ***** Epilogue: 2 months later… *****

"You ready?" Harvey asks, as he leans against the doorframe of Donna's office, watching as she looks up from the papers in front of her, Bic pen in hand.

"I'll be five minutes." She smiles warmly at him as he ambles into her office, hands in his pockets.

He takes a seat in one of the chairs at her desk, throwing one leg over the opposite knee. It had become a routine of sorts over the past couple of months; one of them typically finishing before the other, and since they always went home together now, they would end up in each other's office whilst they waited for the other to finish.

Harvey would never let on, but he always rushed to be done first, so he could sit in her office and watch her. Watch her work, watch her in her own space, take it all in. He was so proud of everything she had achieved. Also, she looked adorable when she was hard at work, brows furrowed in concentration, and he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to stare.

She could feel his gaze on her and she tried to control the smile that threatened to break onto her face.

"Stop staring, Harvey," she murmured, not looking up, a sing-song quality to her voice.

"Nope," he grinned. He sees her exhale a laugh and shake her head ever so slightly. "I like watching you. You're cute when you concentrate."

"I'm cute _all_ the time," she breezed. "God, you're such a sap. What happened to you?"

Really, she loved it. She loved that his soft side was entirely hers now. She'd never let on that she _knew_ he rushed to be done first just so he could sit in her office and stare at her, but she supposed she had to let him think he was one step ahead of her somewhere.

"You happened to me," he says, grinning. He sounded cheesy and cliché, but he meant it seriously.

" _Now_ who's the one being cute?" she says, balling up a piece of paper and throwing it at him. "Stop it, you're distracting me."

He catches the ball, laughing, and mimes zipping his mouth shut. They fall quiet, the only sound coming from the rustle of Donna's paperwork. He continues to stare at her. She pretends not to notice.

His phone buzzes, and he retrieves it from his pocket. He unlocks it to see a text from Mike.

 _Good luck tonight, old man!_

He smiles nervously, taking another look at Donna, and stows the phone away again, trying to swallow down the anxiety the message had brought bubbling to the surface.

"Done! Let's go," Donna says, as she gets up from her chair, throwing her coat over her arm and picking up her bag.

"Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" Harvey murmurs, as he watches her move round her desk. She was wearing a black trouser suit; low-cut blazer with statement silver buttons and fitted trousers with black velvet stilettos. Copper hair falling in waves over her left shoulder, the look finished off with a vivid red lipstick.

"Only every day," Donna smiled back, pecking him on the lips as she reached him, just inside the door to her office.

He takes hold of her hand as they walk down the hallway, falling into a natural rhythm beside one another as they make their way to the elevators.

"Have a good night, you two!" Louis calls, waving at them with a knowing grin as they pass him at reception.

Donna looks at Harvey questioningly once they enter the elevator. "What was all that about?" she asks, as she presses the button for the ground floor.

"What?"

"The way he smiled at us. Like he knew something."

Harvey shrugs, feigning ignorance. "I don't know, Donna. It's Valentine's Day, probably his way of saying 'enjoy all the sex you're gonna have tonight.'"

Donna puts her hand over her heart in mock shock. "Oh my! You've got to at least cook me dinner first, Specter!"

Harvey laughs, playing along. "Of course! What do you take me for? I'm not a _total_ animal, m'dear."

She laughs and pats his arm before they fall into an easy silence beside one another as they descend, Harvey stroking circles on the back of Donna's hand. She smiles and rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.

Harvey watches the display above the doors as they reach the low twenties…high teens…this is it. His stomach is doing somersaults.

The elevator cruises to a smooth stop at floor 14. The lights stay on, the doors stay closed.

Donna raises her head, confused.

"What-?"

She moves to the control panel, pressing the ground floor button impatiently, checking to see if the display changes. Nothing.

"Not again!" She begins to turn back to Harvey. "What is it with us and eleva-"

She freezes, mouth falling open at what she sees.

Harvey is down on one knee, smiling softly, eyes crinkling, shining, as he observes a speechless Donna.

"Marry me."

He pulls a small, maroon, velvet box from his suit breast pocket, and opens it to display the ring inside. A platinum band, with one large diamond inset into a halo of smaller ones.

She stares, lost for words.

"Donna Paulsen, _speechless._ Remind me to write this down," he teases, but she can sense his nerves from the way his voice quakes ever so slightly.

"Harvey…" she breathes.

"Donna," he mirrors, taking a deep breath. "We've been married for the last fourteen years." His eyes twinkle.

She laughs, a tearful, joyful laugh that bubbles up through her next words.

"Feels like thirteen and a half to me."

He laughs in return, tears threatening to fall as he wobbles on his knee. He steadies himself, reaching out for her left hand. She gives him it. He smiles softly up at her, and takes a breath, readying himself.

"I don't know about you, but I don't want to waste another minute without making it official. The last two months have been the happiest of my entire life. You're it for me, Donna, and I want to stand in front of all our family and friends and exchange our vows and partake in every other damn cliché in the book because I want it all, I want it all with you."

She can't hold back the tears any longer, spilling over her cheeks as she beams uncontrollably down at him.

"Donna Roberta Paulsen, will you marry me?" he asks again, as his face erupts into his full Cheshire Cat glory.

She laughs, wiping her eyes.

"You're an idiot. But yes, I'll marry you, Harvey," she half-smiles, half-sobs.

He's up in a flash, cupping her face in both palms, ring box still in hand, slanting his mouth over hers, pouring so much love and passion and wonder into the kiss that her knees all but buckle. She wraps her arms around his waist, both to steady herself and to bring him closer. They remain like that for a few minutes, exchanging soft kisses, Harvey moving to wrap his arms around her shoulders, hands caressing up and down her back. They drink the moment in, gazing at each other, neither of them ever having felt pure unadulterated bliss, contentment, _happiness_ , like this before.

"Here," he says softly, taking the ring out of the box. He takes hold of her left hand.

"May I?" he asks, their eyes meeting.

Butterflies swoop through her entire body as she nods her head, words escaping her upon seeing the utterly adoring, adorably nervous look upon his face.

He slides the ring onto her engagement finger. It's a perfect fit.

He brings her hand to his lips and kisses it, playing with the ring with his thumb.

"You've just made me the happiest man in the world," he manages, and she can see tears in his eyes. "I love you, Donna."

She wraps her arms around his shoulders in an emotional embrace, burying her face in his neck.

"I love you too, Harvey," she whispers as his hands wrap around her back, pulling her closer still, enveloping her, his nose buried in her hair.

She pulls apart, a thought occurring to her.

"Wait…did you plan this?!" she asks, incredulous, gesturing around the elevator.

He feigns innocence, trying to keep his face deadpan but failing spectacularly as his grin breaks through.

"You did!" She's awestruck.

He takes her hands in his, their eyes meeting.

"I may have asked Louis to watch out for us getting in, and then for him to tell Benjamin to work his magic on the fourteenth floor."

"Why? Why in an _elevator,_ at work, of all places?"

"Well, fourteenth floor…fourteen years…and I owe a lot to this _particular_ elevator, Donna. It seemed kind of fitting."

A look of realisation dawns on her face, and she shakes her head in wonder.

"I knew you were secretly a sap, Harvey, but this…wow. I didn't have you down as the guy who remembered places and dates."

"Only ones that involve you," he murmurs, leaning in to plant a feather light kiss on her lips before pulling her into his arms once more, gently swaying as they embrace.

"You wanna get out of here?" he murmurs into her hair, after a minute.

"Yeah," she mumbles, "you still owe me dinner."

He bursts out laughing, giving her a playful nudge. He feels her trying to stifle her giggle against his neck. He shakes his head and plants a kiss on the top of her head.

They pull apart from each other, Harvey reaching for his phone to text Benjamin to get the elevator moving again.

"Who'd have ever thought it; you, Benjamin, and Louis in cahoots," Donna chuckles, eyeing him as he types.

"Being in love changes a man, Donna," he says, throwing her a devastatingly charming grin. "Besides, I couldn't do it by myself, you'd have been onto me in less than 3 seconds."

"Oh my God," she says, her face falling, feigning horror, "you actually got one over on me. How have I let this happen? I need to up my game…"

He chuckles as the elevator continues its descent. They take each other's hand again.

"You can think again if you think we're getting married in this elevator. That's where I draw my line."

He laughs, heart exploding at the mental image of her walking down the aisle towards him. He hadn't been able to think past proposing to her, but now the thought of a wedding, of marrying her, of a life together, of _kids_ , filled him with excitement for a future that he'd never been interested in before.

"Let's go home, Mrs Specter."

"That's Mrs _Paulsen_ -Specter, to you, mister."

 _fin._


End file.
